by Camy Tang
Aw, how considerate. But then he wrapped his arm around her waist.
Lex took a deep breath to force her muscles to relax. This wasn’t a smart idea. The darkness, the intimacy. She usually didn’t put herself in situations like this.
But this was Oliver. Potential boyfriend and/or volleyball sponsor.
She’d already let him kiss her. This was nothing, right?
She couldn’t get herself to relax.
Oliver misinterpreted Lex’s tension, pulling her closer and turning her to face him. His mouth came down on hers.
It wasn’t too bad a kiss — a little harder than she’d like. His hands kneaded her sides — that, too, was a little harder than she’d like. They moved up, higher than she was comfortable with. She tried to push them down, but her hands skidded over his knuckles. He drew her closer than she wanted to be.
He deepened the kiss, his breath harsh against her skin. No, she didn’t like this. Her skin crawled — too much touching. She didn’t want to be touched anymore. This was too difficult for her. She wasn’t ready. She broke the kiss. “No, Oliver.”
He smashed his mouth against her again. She twisted her head and pushed him away. “No.”
“Oh, baby.” He rammed her against the stone railing and wrapped his body around her.
He had trapped her. He touched her all over. She struggled, but it seemed to enflame him more. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the railing.
“No, Oliver!”
“You can’t just lead me on.” He pressed closer, suffocating her.
Oh, God. God, help me. She cringed inside herself, transported back eight years, but only for a moment. Only for a moment.
She reacted automatically. She slammed her heel down hard on his instep. When he took a step back and bent over, she kicked her knee up and broke his nose. She shoved him away.
Lex staggered down the bridge and turned left toward the gate out of the garden, into the parking lot. She rammed into the gate, fumbled with the latch. She tugged it open and stumbled out.
She didn’t expect the cracked cement steps. Her foot twisted. Her back twisted. Her knee twisted — her right knee.
Pop.
A burst of pain, like a water balloon exploding in her knee joint.
No.
Nononononono.
No, God.
No, please, no.
Please, no.
Lex grabbed her bent leg and clawed at her knee as if she could stop the swelling rushing into the joint, as if she could reach in and repair the ligament. As if she could undo what she’d done.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
Screaming. She was screaming without a sound. She couldn’t see.
Tears made the darkness into a melded blur. The pain faded, leaving a narrow ache under the skin.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
Lex, I’m right here.
Her chest collapsed. The aching rushed past her tight throat, flowed out of her nose, her eyes. Her mouth opened wide, the cries pouring out of her.
Oh, God, where did she go wrong? Why was this happening to her? She was so tired. She was so tired.
Rest.
And suddenly she felt arms around her, and she was held.
The roaring in her ears died to a whisper, like wisteria brushing against a window screen. Her heart pulsed, squeezed tight, and then released. Warmth spread from her chest, over her arms, into her belly.
She looked up through watery eyes. There was no one, but she still felt arms holding her. A hand settled on her head. She closed her eyes.
Hot tears fell onto her knee and dribbled down her leg. The gravel bit into her butt. Crickets screeched. A breeze wicked away tears and cooled her face.
She heard sandals crunching the gravel, getting closer.
“Lex.”
She looked up. Mimi’s face in front of her. No, not Mimi. Not Mimi. Where was Venus? Trish? Jenn?
“I’ll get Venus.” Gone, Mimi had gone. No, come back. Don’t leave me alone.
Lex wasn’t alone. The arms still held her.
“Lex!”
Mimi had brought her three cousins. Venus ran up to her, saw her hands around her knee. “Oh, no. Oh, God.” A whisper, a prayer. She touched Lex’s shoulder.
Lex flinched violently. Her skin had become painful, like a sunburn. No, don’t touch me.
“Lex, what’s wrong?” Venus’s hand hovered over her.
Trish pulled Venus’s hand away and turned to Mimi. “Get Aiden.”
“Why Aiden?”
Trish held Lex’s numb gaze. “He’s her therapist. He’s been touching her for weeks. It has to be Aiden.”
Jenn knelt in front of Lex. She sat there, breathing her air, staying close. Trish whispered something to Venus.
Who cares if they know about the rape? Even thinking the word made her shiver. It happened years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters.
Their whispers reached her. “How do you know that’s what happened now?”
Trish’s answer was fierce. “Put two and two together. Oliver followed her out here but came back alone. Lex ran hard enough to hurt herself, and she doesn’t want anyone to touch her now, even us. It’s just like before.”
Before. Lex couldn’t remember before.
Jenn shifted in the gravel. It must be puncturing her bare legs. She leaned close. Then Lex realized she was praying.
Lex suddenly felt safe.
The crunch of more gravel. A deep voice — a male voice. “What happened?”
Trish whispering. “About eight years ago . . .”
No reply.
Lex’s muscles locked, rock hard. Her shoulders started quivering.
She had a hard time breathing.
Then Jenn backed away. A shadow over her. She curled up.
“Lex. I’m going to carry you to my car.” Aiden’s voice. Gentle.
Soothing. But she couldn’t relax.
Then he bent in closer, and she smelled it. Soap, fir, and a thread of musk. She remembered that smell. She remembered the soft pressure of his hands, easing the pain away.
His hand touched her back. Another arm under her leg. The smell filled her lungs, wrapped around her. Her back muscles loosened.
“Arm around my neck, Lex.” She complied and smelled a stronger whiff of fir and musk. Like a sedative, it worked into her body, into her muscles, untangling the tension.
He lifted her up, and pieces of gravel fell away from impressions molded into her skin. He bounced her a little, adjusted his grip, wrapped his arms more firmly around her. Then he walked through the forest of cars.
She closed her eyes and breathed.
Aiden took her to his car, followed by her cousins. He clicked in her seatbelt.
Venus, Trish, Mimi, and Jennifer gathered around the open passenger door.
“Aiden, take her to her dad’s place.”
Yes, Lex wanted Daddy.
“I’ll find her dad and her brother.” Mimi darted away.
“What about Grandma?” Trish frowned. “I don’t want her asking questions.”
“I’ll take care of Grandma.” Jennifer straightened. Lex noticed the stronger line in her back, and her eyes met Trish squarely rather than flickering around.
“What about . . .” Trish’s mouth pulled into a tight line.
Venus’s eyes glittered like a dragon’s. “I’ll tell Richard. He’ll want to know.”
“Let’s go.” Trish climbed into Aiden’s backseat.
Trish directed him to Dad’s apartment. Dad and Mary arrived a minute after they did. Aiden carried Lex into the living room and laid her on the couch.
Her father had aged, with lines crossing his mouth, his hands.
He sat on the couch with Lex, not saying anything. Lex heard Mary murmuring, and then it was just her and Dad. He didn’t touch her.
He hadn’t touched her then, either.
After the first attack, she’d sat, face hard like a porcelain Noh mask, her body a mass of rubber
bands stretched to screaming tautness. She had spoken in monosyllables, and she hadn’t wanted anyone to touch her.
This time, it was different. It could have been worse. She bit her lip.
Dad shifted on the couch. Then he reached out and touched her finger.
She moved her hand forward and clasped his hand.
He squeezed tight. Her fingers grew numb, her bones felt as if they’d break, but she didn’t protest. A tear fell down her cheek.
Then she was crying, sobbing, reaching arms around Daddy and burrowing into his shirt like she used to. His hands went around her, and she was held again.
I’m here.
Oh, God. She was so sorry.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Lex’s foot caught against the side of a cardboard box, and her knee twinged. She hissed against the pain until it dissipated.
She should be looking for housing, not packing her stuff. But she had to keep moving, doing something, so she couldn’t think about what happened.
The doorbell rang. She made her way through the boxes, sliding her feet in small steps.
Trish.
“Can I come in?”
Lex moved aside. “There’s not much room.”
Trish wove her way to the bed and sat down. Lex stood by the door a moment, then followed her to the bed.
Trish chewed the inside of her cheek, kept her head bent. “I’m sorry, Lex.”
Sometime last night, in resting in Jesus’s forgiveness of all her headstrong stupidity, her reasons for being mad at Trish seemed just plain dumb. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. You were right about Kazuo. I let him tell me what to do.”
“He’s gone now. It’s over. Clean slate.”
But Trish started sobbing. “It’s not over. I slept with him.”
Lex jumped. But really, she shouldn’t be surprised. Hadn’t she suspected it, even though she shoved it aside in denial?
“I got drunk one night. And it happened.” Tears rolled off Trish’s nose and dripped onto the sheets.
Lex heard her own breathing in the quiet, heard Trish’s soft weeping. What was she supposed to say? To think?
“I’m so numb.” Trish sniffled. “Shouldn’t I feel something more than this?”
Lex understood numb. “I don’t know.” She stared at her hands.
After a few minutes, Trish rose. “I’ll go.”
“No, don’t go.” Lex reached for her.
“You need someone else with you.”
“I need you.”
“What could I ever do for you?” Trish’s voice broke.
“I love you, Trish.”
Trish’s face crumpled. She dropped back down to the bed, stuffing her head in the covers. She heaved and wailed. Lex touched her head, her shoulder.
It took Trish a long time to calm down. She lay staring at the wall.
“I never thought to ask God about Kazuo.”
“I never thought to ask God about Oliver. I never thought to ask God about anything I did. I just did it. And things got worse and worse.”
The doorbell rang. Trish bolted to her feet, then glanced at the bathroom.
Lex stood. “Go. I’ll get the door.”
She opened it to the sight of the top of a female head and a male chest. She looked down. Oh, Mimi. She looked up. Who was that?
Mimi pushed her way in. “You really need a larger place, Lex.”
“I’ll remember that when I win Publisher’s Clearinghouse.”
Mimi waved a hand, Vanna-like, at her escort. “Ta-daaaaa!”
Lex looked. Trish came out of the bathroom and looked.
“And?”
Mimi huffed. “Doesn’t he look like Oliver?”
Lex shrank back at the name. Trish took a step toward Mimi. “Are you nuts? What are you doing?”
“Grandma saw Lex last night with Oliver. This is Trey, who looks just like him.”
Trey smiled at Lex.
“You want me to take Trey to the wedding next week?”
“Bingo!” Mimi beamed. “Just be a little lovey-dovey with Trey, here, and Grandma won’t cut funding. I mean, that’s the only reason you were after Slimeball in the first place, right?”
Sort of. She’d wanted to conquer her fear, and Oliver had fit everything on her List. But right now, weren’t her volleyball girls all that mattered?
Lex stared at Trey, and the panic whirled like a class-five hurricane in her stomach, clawed up her throat, and squeezed tight. Her hands shook and she grabbed at the wall next to her.
Mimi saw the gesture, and her smile faded.
Lex couldn’t fail her girls. She couldn’t. It would be so easy to just take Trey to the wedding. She could do it. She could hold his hand —
She bit her lip and tasted blood. She screwed her eyes shut. She breathed in through her nose. Exhaled.
“Lex.”
She opened her eyes to look at Trish.
“You don’t have to do it.” Mimi shook her head.
“I can’t. I’m sorry, Mimi. I appreciate — ”
“That’s okay. Trish told me. Don’t force it. It’s okay.” She nodded and then hustled Trey out of the apartment. “It’ll be okay.” They left.
Now Lex had to tell the junior high girls.
She couldn’t do it. She’d had all the practice, and she couldn’t do it.
Lex sat in the parking lot outside the gym in her car — a rental Venus had gotten for her because Lex went back to work next week.
She stared at the closed gym doors.
She’d failed them. Completely.
She couldn’t pray. She had to pray. God, please. Wasn’t there something He could do?
Silence. But it seemed a friendlier silence than from the months before.
Please do something. She’d wait for Him to do something. She’d wait for Him, even if He didn’t do something.
Her phone chirped. “Hello?”
“It’s Mimi.”
“What’s up?” Lex started up the car.
“I’ve found housing for you.”
Lex slammed on the brakes. “Really?”
“Yeah . . . with me.”
She wished she could see Mimi’s face, because her voice differed from normal. “In your apartment?”
“No, a few months ago, Mom and Dad got me a condo. My roommate just moved out, and . . . Want to move in?”
“Where do you live?”
“South San Jose.”
It would be a commute, but . . . “How much?”
“Free.”
“Free?”
“It’s . . . kind of a dump. A fixer-upper. If you don’t mind.”
“As long as it’s got a roof and no rats.”
“Oh, yeah, nothing like that. I was going to ask a fix-it guy to room instead, but I know you don’t have anyplace and you’ll be having surgery again soon.”
“Yeah.” Lex had hesitated asking Venus to help her again, taking her away from work.
“Well, I don’t mind taking care of you. And I know you’d be willing to help with renovations once you’re feeling better.”
This whole conversation seemed kind of weird, but hadn’t Lex just been praying? “You’re doing this, why?”
Mimi cleared her throat. Hemmed and hawed a bit. “Well, you need help. I need a roommate. I know you’re strong. You’re the ‘reliable’ cousin, so Mom and Dad won’t freak out if I live with you versus some guy they don’t know. You’re not going to steal my boyfriends. I dunno. Do I need any other reasons?”
“Yeah.”
“How about you score me some sports tickets?”
“I guess I can do that.” She could ask for a few favors from scouts, alumni association reps.
“So we got a deal?”
“When do I move in?”
THIRTY-EIGHT
Lex fingered the diamond earrings. She hated touching them. They were too delicate for her clumsy fingers. She was more comfortable with a volleyball.
Mom had put these on when she came home to die.
Lex had never worn them, partly for that reason. Mom’s face had been tired. She’d given up. It had been a relief.
Lex never gave up. Mom shouldn’t have either.
She knew it was irrational. Mom hadn’t been able to hold back death. But the earrings reminded her of that moment Mom gave in, gave up.
Lex was giving up too. Giving it into God’s hands.
No joyous peace, no incredible assurance that all would be well. Just calm hope, and a little numbness. Maybe it would work out okay, maybe it wouldn’t. She’d wait and see.
She put on the earrings.
Her bridesmaid dress took a little while to struggle into. The floaty skirt in sickly lavender kept tangling around her clumsy knee, and she couldn’t wear the dyed-to-order pumps unless she wanted to tear the other ACL too.
Lex chucked the shoes into a box and reached for her sneakers. The long skirt hid them. Sort of.
Now, crutches or no?
She glared at the crutches against the wall. They had come out when she was vulnerable and in pain.
But what was the point of being strong, or pretending to be? Lex purposely reached up to finger the earrings. She grabbed her purse and the crutches.
Besides, Mariko would go postal when she saw Lex hobbling down the aisle with them.
She went out to the curb. An SUV parked there, but she didn’t see her dad’s car. Lex was already late. Was he late too?
Wait, she knew that SUV.
Aiden walked around the back side and unlocked the trunk.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m your ride.” He took her crutches and slid them into the back.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Already on his way to the church with Mary.”
Lex couldn’t read Aiden’s bland face. “Why?”
“Why should he wait for you when you’d be late as usual?”
She glared.
He grinned.
Grinned.
“I guess I can handle a change in chauffeurs.”
“Before we go, I have something I should have told you a couple weeks ago.”
“If this is about Ike — ”
“No, but it’s about his church.”
“His church? You hate church.”
“I’ve been going to his church.”
Lex swayed. Aiden leaped at her, but she thrust a hand in his face.